Page 25 of Fetch

I dip my head, feigning shyness. “For sure. You skate?”

“Yeah, right. Roxy used to though.”

Roxy’s face turns bright red. It’s adorable. “Oh, yeah? You get up to Heights Park lately? I just helped them build a new ramp.”

She folds her arms over her chest, defensively. “My friend here is embellishing asusual. I haven’t touched a skateboard since I was twelve.”

I tilt my head and relish how the blush of her cheeks inches down her chest, consuming her. I bet her nipples are two stiff peaks under that fuzzy sweater. The corners of my lips turn up into a smirk. “And what about skateboarders?”

Juniper stifles a laugh.

Roxy narrows her eyes at me. “Have we met before?”

“I get that a lot.” I don’t take my eyes off her. Deep inside, she knows me. Her mind will rationalize a thousand different things. But Roxy Luna knows my voice better than anyone. She’s the only one I talk to the way I do.

“I bet you do,” Juniper drawls.

I keep my gaze fixed on Roxy as she rings me up for the record. “You a gamer chick, Roxy?”

Her breath hitches, and her fingers freeze around the record. “Why would you think that?” she snaps.

I hold up my hands in mock defense. “So you hate video games. Noted. I was just wondering if you’ve played my game. Since you used to skate, I figured you could check it out.”

She blows out a deep breath while her friend stalks off, shaking her head. “Sorry. Um, yeah. I am a gamer. But I don’t play sports games.”

I can’t tell if she’s confused, angry, aroused, or all three. But I’m enjoying every second of flustering her. “Fair enough.”

She drops the receipt in the bag before handing it to me. “This is a great album by the way. One of my favorites from that era.”

Our hands lightly brush in the exchange, and it sends a shiver of excitement directly to my cock. “Same. I collect copies of it wherever I go. It got me through some tough times.”

For the first time since she laid eyes on me, her expression softens. My story is not a secret. I led a very public downward spiral for all the world to see.

“What’s your favorite song on it?” she asks, biting her lip.

My fingers tingle. I want to reach over and touch her so fucking bad. “Heart-Shaped Box.”

We stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, locked in the grip of the chemistry between us. She finally draws in breath. A storm rages in her eyes. She takes a step back. “I better get back to work. Nice meeting you in person, Punk.”

I wink. “Likewise, Roxy.”

I tuck the record inside my leather jacket and zip it up before hopping back on my bike. I glance back through the store window before putting my helmet on. Sure enough, she’s still staring after me. She’s a clever girl, as smart as she is beautiful. It won’t be long until she figures out who’s come to claim her. Soon, she’ll be kneeling in front of me with her tongue out, as addicted to me as I am to her.

I lean against my bike, devouring my sandwich as I watch Oliver try to teach the new kid how to do a kickflip over a trash can. He’s agile and fearless in every attempt. No matter how many times he eats shit. They’ve asked me countless times to help instruct, but I don’t have the stomach for it anymore. It hurts too much, knowing that I can never skate like I used to. It’s a miracle they even asked, considering the size of the match I used to burn my whole fucking life down. I guess time helps people forget. Or at least soften the blow.

But I still like to come out here and watch. It quiets the rage for a little while. And it makes these kids want to push themselves hard when they see their idol standing by on the sidelines. I cause a stir every time I show up. At least I gave them an example of whatnotto do when you get a bunch of money and fame. Skaters have always had an edge to them. A mystique. But I took bad boy to a whole other level. I became the villain.

The old-school cats still show me respect, but the people who really matter—the sponsors, my family, my fucking friends… They gave up on me a long time ago. Getting clean didn’t matter. I lost their trust. I don’t fucking blame them for turning their backs. I did some really horrible shit.

But now I have Roxy. And I’m going to make sure she never wants to leave me. She’s an outcast like me, broken, lonely, and misunderstood. When I found out that she also lost her career over an injury I felt even closer to her. We are cut from the same cloth. We are destiny.

I look down at my phone and check the tracker I have on her car. It’s moving toward her apartment. I throw my sandwich wrapper in the trash, wave to Oliver, and fire up my bike. As I drive over to her neighborhood, I contemplate my next move.

Part of me wants to knock on her door and demand that she unblock me. But I’m not ready to show my cards just yet. I need to know that she wants me too. And not because I’m Punk Wilder but because I’m the man who made her cum harder than she ever has.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. The second I slid my fingers inside her wet cunt, when I felt her folds tremble against me, I knew she hadn’t been touched like that before. It made me hungrier, needier, for her release. The way she fucking shuddered when she shattered all over my hand… Fuck. I became addicted to that sensation right then and there. Now I want to see what else I can elicit from her. What I can provoke out of her.

I kill the engine and park a block away from her apartment, leaving my helmet on just in case. She hops out of her car and darts up the stairs with a fury. Like she’s late for something. Interesting. I nod at the old lady walking her dog. She eyes me cautiously, so I take off my helmet and hold up a random map on my phone.

---